


stay gold, mikey

by etselec



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Fluff, Greasers, M/M, Socs, modern outsiders p much, side frerard, the outsiders au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etselec/pseuds/etselec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, Mikey's a Greaser and Pete's in the rival gang, The Socs</p>
<p>What happens when they have to work together for a school project?</p>
            </blockquote>





	stay gold, mikey

**Author's Note:**

> nevr thought i'd write an outsiders au 
> 
> amazing

“You know what? Fuck you, Gerard,” Mikey spat out, fixing the lapels of his leather jacket, “you can’t fucking make me go school, do my homework. You’re not my father.”

“Dad hasn’t been here for years and Mom’s fucking messed up. Do you really think they’re gonna tell you what to do?” Gerard asked. He was a year out of high school-- no way he would make it into college-- what money did they have? So he stuck around the house and worked at the gas station down the road, trying to keep Mikey out of trouble.

“I don’t want people telling me what to do, I’m a _senior_ , I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” Mikey dusted his jacket off before running out the house, cigarette dangling from his lips.  He jogged down the road and into an abandoned building where distant laughter could be heard.

“Hey, dickhead,” Mikey called, choking on smoke for a second. “Fuck.”

“Mikeyway,” Frank Iero pulled him close into a tight hug, “fuck, haven’t seen you in forever, man. Where you been?”

“Gerard’s been making me focus on school. Actually do the homework and shit,” Mikey sighed, a bit embarrassed, “it sucks. I’m back for now, though.”

Frank shrugged. “Sucks. How’s, uh, Gerard by the way? He got a girlfriend yet?”

Mikey scoffed. “ _Gerard?_ A girlfriend? Oh, _please_.”

“Boyfriend?” Frank asked, immediately regretting it.

“Uh, no,” Mikey squinted at him, “are you--”

“I’m just asking,” Frank blurted out. He ran a hand through his greasy hair and changed the subject, “whatever, man, you should meet the new recruit.” He led him to the group of people standing in somewhat of a circle.

“Uh, this is Mikey, he’s been kind of MIA for a bit, but he’s back now,” Frank pushed him forward. Mikey smiled, taking another drag from his cigarette. He lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head.

“Hey, ‘sup?”

“‘m Ray,” the tall one with the fucking crazy hair introduced, “nice to meet you.”

“He just moved here from like California or some shit,” Bob explained, playing with his switch blade, sharpening it against a stone. “Surprised he wasn’t a Soc.”

Ray remained expressionless. “Yeah.”

“That’s cool,” Mikey shrugged, “we should get back to my place. Gee’s got pizza tonight and Mom’s on a business trip.”

Frank blinked. He always knew business trip meant getting back into drugs, but he never said. He’d asked Gerard once and he just shook his head and forced a grin before changing the subject. “Alright. Ray, you gonna join?”

Ray played with the material of his new leather jacket. “Dunno. I guess.”

“Awesome,” Frank grinned punching him on the shoulder playfully. “Gee’s awesome and he’s fucking amazing at art, man. You’ll like him.”

Ray only grinned, following Mikey out of the building and down the road.

They were only nearly halfway there when a loud shout followed by barks of laughter sent a shiver down Mikey’s spine.

“Hey Mikeyway,” someone sneered, stepping closer and into Mikey’s line of sight. He adjusted his collar from under his sweatervest before grinning wide.

“Long time no see, Brendon,” Mikey spat, dropping his cigarette to the cement and crushing it with the heel of his boot.

“That’s littering, Mikeyway,” Brendon tutted, kicking the cigarette to the side.

“Fuck off,” Mikey replied.

A chorus of “oohs” sounded from the back.

“Who’s that?” Mikey asked, waving behind Brendon. “Got fresh meat already?”

A kid fiddling with his letterman sweater dared to step forward, smiling. “Yeah I’m fresh meat, got a problem?”

Mikey was startled at first, but then a smile was brought to his face. “Feisty, I like it.”

The kid turned red, unsure of what to say.

“Hey, Pete, don’t worry about him, he’s always like that,” Brendon explained before facing Mikey again, “way to be a dick to the new kid.”

“You’re surprised?” Mikey raised his eyebrows.

Brendon grumbled. “Fuck you, man, I don’t want a fight right now.”

“I don’t either,” Mikey’s gaze tore away from Brendon. He studied the new kid for a minute. He looked roughly about the same age as Mikey and his hair looked absolutely wild; Mikey thought he was rather attractive for being a Soc.

Hey, hey, so what if Mikey thought dudes were hot? Who gave a fuck? Like come on, he even found Gerard sucking a dick behind the school during Mikey’s his freshman year. “What’s your name, new meat?”

“Pete,” the kid replied, “what’s yours?”

“That’s the lamest name I’ve ever heard,” Mikey folded his arms, “and Mikey, as you’ve heard.”

“Mikey sounds like a fucking stripper name,” Pete snapped back.

Brendon’s eyes widened. “Shit, calm down, we don’t want a fight.” He set a hand on Pete’s shoulder and pushed him back forcefully.

“Fuck you, Urie,” Pete bit out, pulling his sweater closer over his chest. He promptly turned around and headed down the sidewalk.

Brendon’s eyes widened as he mumbled something. “Whatever, catch you assholes later.” Brendon and the rest of the Socs ran after Pete, calling his name.

“The new kid--what a fucking weirdo, am I right?” Bob quipped, observing as the Socs disappeared around the corner.

Mikey shrugged, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “Dunno. He seemed, you know, too un-Soc-y.”

“I get what you’re saying,” Frank said, kicking around some dirt, “Urie looked ready to fuck him up.”

Mikey nodded. “Yeah. Well, whatever, let’s get back to my place.”

There was a chorus of agreement. Mikey grinned and jogged back to his house and swung open the screen door to find Gerard hunched over the table, sketching something out.

“Hey, Gee,” Mikey greeted, “what you drawing this time?”

“Zombies,” Gerard answered, erasing something from the corner of his paper, “and vampires. Maybe werewolves eventually.”

Frank leaned over the table, bouncing on his heels of his boots. “It looks real nice, Gee.”

Gerard looked up to Frank’s smiling face. “Thanks.”

Mikey swore he saw Frank blush. Disgusting. “Hey, did you get that pizza already?”

“Yeah, it’s on the counter,” Gerard gestured into the next room, “save one for me, Frankie?”

Frank batted his eyes. “Of course, yeah.”

Mikey rolled his eyes, already grabbing a piece and half stuffing it in his mouth, half tearing up because of how hot it was.

“Dude, props to your bro for getting this,” Ray yanked a piece of pizza up and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Dude, I know,” Mikey said, grabbing the TV remote and switching the TV on.

“Ugh, lame, Spongebob. Can you change it?” Bob grumbled, finishing off the crust into his mouth.

“What the fuck did I just hear come out of your mouth, Bryar?” Frank said, “Spongebob is fucking boss, don’t you forget it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bob’s eyes widened as he rolled onto his stomach, “Mikey--dude, your brother still got those Playboy mags?”

“Fuck, no, Mom found out and Gerard didn’t come out of his bedroom for like a week,” Mikey explained, licking the grease and cheese off his fingers.

Bob sighed, flipping through a women’s health magazine. “Fucking tragic, man.”

Frank laughed. “Agreed.”

\--

Mikey woke to a sudden coolness on his body. His eyes snapped open to find Gerard, holding up his bed covers with a smug expression on his face. “Fucking hell.”

“School, asshole,” Gerard explained, dropping the covers on to the floor.

Mikey cursed before sitting up in bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He sighed, pulling on his clothes and meeting his brother downstairs where a piece of dry toast and a glass of orange juice was already set for him on the table. As much as he hated mornings, Mikey admired Gerard’s effort.

He gulped down the food and orange juice and grabbed his backpack from the counter. “Hey, Gee?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Gerard popped up from out of his bedroom.

“Uh, thanks,” Mikey mumbled, staring at his boots, “and I’m sorry, you know, for snapping at you yesterday. I was kind of pissed.”

Gerard smiled warmly. Mikey almost envied how he forgave so easily. “No problem, Mikes. See you here after school?”

“Yeah, totally,” Mikey smiled back, running a hand through his hair, “later, Gee.” He turned around and stuck his hands in his pockets. He met Frank a block away from school.

“Dude, can’t believe you actually showed up today,” Frank grinned, bumping into Mikey. He started to unwrap a pack of cigarettes. “Thought you would, like, rebel and shit against Gerard.”

Mikey scowled at him. “I’m not like that and you know that. Dick.”

“Fuck off,” Frank laughed. They started getting closer to the school, immediately spotting a group of Socs blocking the entrance.

Pete was one of them.

“Hey, it’s that Mikey kid,” Pete stepped forward in front of them, grinning.

Mikey laughed. “You think you’re intimidating? You’re like four feet tall.”

Pete clenched his fists. “Fuck you.”

“Thanks for the offer, but no thanks,” Mikey smirked, pushing past the group of Socs and a red faced Pete, Frank trailing behind.

“Mikey fucking Way,” Frank said, amused, “how do you do it?”

“Lots of practice,” Mikey replied, ruffling up his hair

\--

French was Mikey’s least favorite class. It was so goddamn boring, like, who cared if you knew how to say “potato” in French? Fuck.

Madam Francine paced around the room, twirling a whiteboard marker between her fingers. “Bonjour, class. Today we are going to start a project due next week,” she began writing on the board, “I will choose the partners you work with--”

An expected chorus of groans filled the classroom.

“--and the project will be due next week and worth 10% of your semester final grade.” She began explaining how they had to write a full on 3000 word story with a plot and everything. Mikey groaned at every aspect of the assignment.

“Let’s she,” she finally said, “how about Frank and Jamia, Mikey and Pete…” Mikey promptly stopped paying attention after that.

Was Pete even in this class? He turned his head to look and holy shit he was. Mikey couldn’t work with a fucking Soc. But then again, Gerard would kill him if he didn’t do this project. He could almost hear Gerard yelling _10%, Mikey. Mom’s gonna be fucking pissed._

Fuck everything.

The bell rang and Mikey waited up for Pete who was the last to leave. “Hey, Soc.”

Pete turned around. “What do you want?”

“I, uh, actually want to do well on this project,” Mikey knew Pete would make fun of him and tell all his Soc friends and Mikey would lose his rep, but at least it would make Gerard happy, “so if we could set aside our differences and, you know, work?”

Pete stared blankly at him. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, deal with it,” Mikey said, angered.

“Alright, then,” Pete shrugged, “I can deal with your annoying ass for one project.”

Mikey’s face softened. “Really? Fuck yeah, thanks. Come by my house after school Wednesday? 1800 North State Ave.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Pete hoisted his backpack on his shoulders and pushed past Mikey.

Mikey scoffed, sticking his hands in his jean pockets.

\--

It was raining on the Wednesday they were supposed to get started on the project. Pete knocked on Mikey’s door 30 minutes after Mikey had gotten home.

“Hey,” Mikey greeted, holding the door open for him, “let’s hurry the fuck up, I don’t want you infecting my house.”

Pete grinned slyly, entering the living room. He followed Mikey into his bedroom where he shut the door behind them. He kicked a few garments of clothing aside and patted a spot on the floor for Pete to sit.

“Okay,” Mikey lay on his stomach and place his notebooks and textbooks in between them, “so I was thinking something with like ghosts and shit. Like some girl finds a ghost and it’s just various adventures between them. We’ll write the first 1000 word intro together here and we can each do two 500 word stories about the girl and her ghost friend. Then, bam, 3000 words.”

Pete nodded. “What the hell, Greaser, that’s a good idea.”

“Thanks,” Mikey laughed, ripping a piece of paper out his notebook. He handed it to Pete. “Brainstorm some shit. I think _ghost_ is _un fantôme_.”

“Cool, thanks, Way,” Pete grabbed the textbook to use as a surface and started scribbling stuff down. He frowned several times, as Mikey had noticed--not like he was spending his entire time staring at Pete’s pretty face, he had, like, five ideas down already--and Pete erased a lot. “Mikey?”

“Yeah?” Mikey said, writing something down, “you got something?”

Pete nodded, shifting closer so he was next to Mikey. “So, like, a girl--sorry, I mean _une fille_ \-- goes into _un cimetière_ and finds _une fantôme_ that’s a boy, and she’s so intrigued by him that she goes back everyday and they go on adventures and hold hands and go to abandoned amusement parks--we can add stuff from there, I dunno.”

Mikey grinned as Pete started crossing stuff out on his paper. “Dude, I like it. We should get started.”

Pete and Mikey spend the rest of the afternoon writing the first 1000 words of their ghost girl story. Mikey actually thought Pete wasn’t that bad of a writer-- maybe even better if this entire story didn’t have to be in French. Mikey liked the way some of Pete’s dark hair fell in front of his eyelashes while he typed on the laptop they were using. He liked the way Pete would stick his tongue in his cheek when he was thinking and he liked how he would bite his lip before asking Mikey if he would add something.

God _fucking_ dammit, Mikey, he’s a fucking Soc. He hated this, he _hated_ it. If Pete was a Greaser, Mikey would already be sucking his dick by now.

They took a ten minute break at around 5:30 and Mikey put his earbuds in.

“What you listening to?” Pete asked, still sitting cross-legged on his floor.

“Dunno. Some of my brother’s music,” Mikey explained, shrugging his leather jacket off and taking an object from his bedside table, “he told me to listen to his dumb playlist.”

“What’s that?” Pete asked, pointing to what he had grabbed.

Mikey sighed. “Glasses case. I can’t see for shit but I don’t wear them to school because I look like a fucking nerd.”

Pete scoffed. “You look like a fucking nerd with _out_ the glasses.”

Mikey scowled at him before snapping open the case and slipping them on. “Go ahead, make fun of me.”

Pete blinked at him. “Still a nerd.”

Mikey smiled. “Wow, thanks.”

\--

The first 1000 words had gone more successful than Mikey thought it would. He kicked Pete out of his house by 7:30, satisfied with the work they had done.

Mikey decided Pete wasn’t that bad for a Soc-- okay maybe because he was super hot, but besides that, he didn’t seem as violent as the others. He was different, he was _new._

Mikey maybe jerked off that night thinking about Pete’s mouth wrapped around his cock, but hey, what else was new?

\--

Mikey woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. He took some painkillers and walked off to school, his leather jacket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Frank met him again a block away from school.

“Hey, you worked with Wentz last night. How bad did it suck, one to ten?” Frank nudged him.

Mikey considered this. “Uh, eleven. Yeah, dude he was so fucking annoying.” Mikey lied, he did it all the time. Why did he feel so bad delivering this one?

Frank barked out a laugh. “That sucks, man.”

“Greaser!” a voice yelled once the school was in view.

“Fuck,” Mikey grumbled. He turned around and faced Pete with his stupid plaid shirt and his gang following closely behind, Brendon one of them. “What do you want, Pete?”

“We still on tonight?” Pete asked cheekily.

“Get it, Mikeyway!” Brendon hollered from the back on the gang.

Mikey flipped him off. “Whatever.” He turned back around and walked in the building with Frank by his side.

He survived through the whole day and finally made it to French class where Madame Francine reminded them of the project and then made them write ten sentences all about going to the pool. All Mikey wanted to do was lay his head down on his desk and rest.

The bell rang and Pete met Mikey by a tree where he was just about to pull out his pack of cigarettes.

“Hey, Mikey, you think they’ll laugh if we walk to your house together?” Pete asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“100% likely,” Mikey dug out his lighter and lit his cigarette, “but what the hell, you know? Come on.”

Mikey led Pete home, ignoring the snickers of the Socs and Greasers they passed by. “You know we don’t have to necessarily _work_ together now?”

“I know,” Pete said stubbornly, “but we need to, like, make sure we have the right ideas.”

Mikey shrugged, finally leading them into his house. “Fair point.” He shut his bedroom door behind them. “You finally bring your laptop this time?”

“Yeah, dude,” Pete pulled his laptop out of his backpack.

Mikey grabbed his own laptop and hopped onto his bed. He patted the space next to him. “Pete, sit here.”

“On your bed?” Pete raised an eyebrow.

“You’re fucking gross,” Mikey rolled his eyes, “you want to sit on the wood floor? Fine, I’m totally fucking comfy up here.”

Pete grumbled something under his breath before joining Mikey on his bed. Suddenly, they were sitting thigh to thigh and Mikey sucked in a breath.

“Oh,” Mikey blurted out, “uh, I mean, what you thinking on writing about?”

Pete stared at his lap. “You’ll laugh at me, it’s kind of dumb.”

“Nuh-uh,” Mikey assured, “I won’t, Soc.”

Pete’s face scrunched up at the nickname. He let out a breath. “Okay, so what if the girl is bisexual and this living girl goes up and tries to come on to her and ghost boy gets all angry and tries to get the other girl to stay away?”

“The girl and the ghost boy have _names_ , you know.”

“Fine, Olivia and Greyson.”

Mikey tilted his head. “I like that but why change her sexuality?”

“It adds a twist!” Pete blurted out, his face red.

“So you wanna write that all in French?” Mikey asked.

Pete grinned. “The Internet’s there for a reason, dude.”

“I see,” Mikey continued to type something on his laptop, “I was just gonna make her introduce Greyson to her friends.”

“How boring,” Pete rolled his eyes, “just like you.”

“Fuck off,” Mikey grunted.

Some time later, the only sound in the room was the clicking of the keyboard and occasional person clearing their throat. Mikey sneezed once and Pete said “bless you” to which Mikey was actually pretty surprised at.

Mikey broke the silence thirty minutes later. “Hey Pete?”

“Yo,” Pete acknowledged.

“I’m kind of, um, surprised that you’re okay with this LGBT+ stuff,” Mikey said, his cheeks feeling warm, “you know, I always thought Socs were all ‘homosexuality is wrong, but lesbians are hot’.”

Pete’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Dude. No fucking way. I’m only, like, writing bi ghost girl because I’m bi.”

If Mikey had been drinking water, he would have spit it all over his laptop and possibly electrocuted himself. “You’re bi? Do the other Socs know?”

Pete shook his head. “No and let’s keep it that way. I’ll fucking rip your throat out if you do.”

“It’s fine, I am too,” it’s like Mikey’s brain completely stopped working. Did he just _out_ himself to a fucking Soc? Mikey almost felt like throwing up. He immediately put a hand over his mouth.

Pete’s eyes widened. “You’re bi?”

Mikey nodded, eyes watery. “Fuck, don’t fucking tell.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” Pete said seriously.

“Deal,” Mikey removed his hand from his mouth to shake his hand. He began to blabber, “I- I don’t even really know if I am. I mean, I’ve experimented with a guy or two but I’ve never really developed romantic feelings towards a guy until-- what are you doing?” Mikey realized that Pete had set his laptop on the floor and was now hovering above him. Mikey took a sharp intake of breath.

“I’m not gonna lie, you’re fucking hot.”

Mikey opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a squeak. He swallowed a lump in his throat before he could finally say something. “Pete, what are you doing?”

“What _they_ don’t know won’t hurt them,” Pete said, looking Mikey right in the eye. He was practically right above of Mikey, one knee on each side of Mikey’s thighs. “Come on, I’ve seen you staring at me. I thought it was just a _hate_ thing, but now I know why.”

Mikey’s mouth was completely dry. _What the fuck, Way, you’re supposed to be all smooth and suave. Shit._  “Pete, what if--”

“They won’t.”

Mikey felt anxious. If one gang or the other would find out, they could be kicked out. Pete would probably be angry at Mikey and they’d become enemies. Or they could just keep this a secret and no one would know. What if Gerard found out? What if Frank found out? What if his mom found out? What if-- _oh fuck it._

Mikey roughly grabbed the back of Pete’s neck and smashed their lips together, pulling him completely on top of him. Pete practically stuck his tongue down Mikey’s throat-- not that he was complaining. They made out fast and sloppy, Mikey eventually reaching down to unzip Pete’s pants.

One messy handjob later, Pete lay breathless on Mikey’s bed, his pants still around his ankles. “Fuck, Mikeyway, you’re pretty good at this.”

“Thanks,” Mikey smiled, “you should finish your story.”

Pete frowned. “You should finish yours.”

“I did, asshole,” Mikey scoffed, “probably while you were too busy having sexual fantasies about me.”

“Was not!” Pete argued. He leaped off of Mikey’s bed and pulled his pants back up, lifting his laptop back onto the bed. “What time is it, by the way?”

“5:30,” Mikey answered.

Pete perked up. “Dude, we could each write the other 500 word story and then we’ll be done.”

Mikey shrugged. “If you want.”

“I want to get this done.”

“Whatever,” Mikey mumbled before pulling his laptop back onto his lap.

By 10:30, both were done with their French project and it was only Thursday-- that meant they had a whole three days until it was officially due. Hell fucking yeah.

\--

The next day, Mikey arrived at school tired as hell. Frank, as usual, met him a block before school.

“Hey, how’s that project goin’?” he asked.

“Fine,” Mikey replied, “how about you and Jamia?”

Frank frowned. “Weird. I think she’s trying to come on to me because she keeps, like, shoving her tits in my face when we type.”

Mikey was taken aback. “Dude, aren’t you into that shit? Jamia’s hot.”

“I know but--”

“You like my brother.”

“Am I that obvious?” Frank’s eyes widened.

“ _Yes,_ ” Mikey could almost cry at Frank’s sudden realization, “and I give you my total consent on asking him out. He’s only a year older than you, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Mikey mumbled, “I think he likes you, too.”

“Really?” Frank asked again.

“ _Yes_ , really,” Mikey was getting annoyed now, “now come on, let’s get inside.”

\--

It was end of seventh period and Pete had Mikey pressed against the brick wall of the school. He licked and bit Mikey’s skin, occasionally stopping to kiss Mikey with hot open mouth kisses, fucking his mouth with his tongue.

Mikey groaned, pushing himself against Pete. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Mikey, what the hell?” a voice called from a few yards away. “Dude, you missed Chemistry. Alicia got soaked with water and you could see her bra, it was so hot.”

Mikey leaned his forehead against Pete’s. “This sucks, I want my dick in your mouth.”

Pete laughed. “See you around, Greaser.” He slipped away from him and ran into the school.

Frank and Bob found Mikey standing awkwardly, half hard in his jeans. “Uh, hey.”

Bob squinted at him. “What were you doing just then?”

“About to get my dick sucked before you assholes had to come in,” it wasn’t the full truth, but hey.

Frank laughed. “Who was it? Hannah?”

“That bitch! I was supposed to take her out tonight,” Bob muttered.

“It wasn’t Hannah, calm the fuck down,” Mikey snapped, “and I don’t kiss and tell.”

Frank folded his arms. “Whatever you say, Mikeyway.”

Mikey lifted himself from off of the wall. “Last period, right?”

“Dude, you really want to go to last period?” Bob asked, “French sucks major balls.”

“I like French,” Frank said quietly.

Bob grumbled. “That’s because you’re a loser. Anyways, Mikey, I thought you hated French class.”

“Dunno, I feel like going. I’m bored,” Mikey evened out the sleeves of his leather jacket before shoving the school doors open. He walked into class and took a seat, briefly making eye contact with Pete who licked his lips.

“Oh my fucking God,” Mikey said to himself.

Madame Francine tapped her whiteboard marked against his desk. “Say that again, Michael.”

“I said,” Mikey made eye contact with her, “oh my fucking God.”

Madam Francine didn’t even seemed phased by the statement. “Say it one more time and it’s detention.”

Mikey rolled his eyes.

They learned about some new verbs and a whole list of new vocab to memorize by the end of next Friday. Mikey had the thought of getting up and leaving several times throughout the lesson.

When the bell finally rang, he sprung up and grabbed his bag. Pete blocked his entrance to leave.

“What now?” Mikey asked, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

Pete looked from left to right. “We have to work on that project, Mikeyway.”

Mikey took a step back. “We finished the proj-- _oh,_ you want to make out.”

Pete grinned, grabbing ahold of his sleeve and yanking him out the door.

\--

Mikey was at that shitty diner around the corner from the gas station when it happened. The Socs, the whole lot of them-- Brendon, Pete, and those kids Joe and Andy who could probably lift like 500 pounds like it was no big deal.

Great, just fucking great. “Hey Brendon, how’s your mom? Did she tell you about last night?”

Brendon gritted his teeth. “Wanna fucking go, Mikey?”

“Yeah,” Mikey stood up, pushing his plate of steak aside, “I wanna fucking go.”

Brendon and his gang dragged Mikey outside behind the diner into an alleyway and punched him right in the jaw.

“Ow, motherfucker, I wasn’t even ready,” Mikey rubbed the side of his stinging face. He kneed Brendon in the stomach, to which he sank to the ground. “Fuck yeah.”

“What the fuck?” Joe was already up in Mikey’s face, taking out his switchblade and swiping it against Mikey’s cheek.

“Hey, no weapons, Trohman,” Brendon wheezed from the ground.

Mikey touched his face where he felt a line of blood dripping down his cheek. “Fuck, that stings.” He leaned forward and headbutted Joe and kicked Andy in the crotch.

Pete just stood there and Mikey stared at him. “You can hit me,” he mouthed when the others weren’t looking.

Pete’s eyes widened like a deer in the headlights and he shook his head furiously.

While Mikey was about to reply to that, he was kneed in the stomach. He groaned and fell to the asphalt, clutching his middle.

Brendon laughed, proceeding to kick Mikey in the shin while Andy continued to kick the side of his face. Joe just seemed to kick whatever spot of Mikey was available so Mikey’s hands immediately went to cover his crotch.

“Pete, what the fuck, get over here,” Brendon barked.

Pete swallowed and stepped forward, a glint of worry in his eyes, watching as Mikey was on the verge of unconsciousness. “I--”

Brendon sighed. “Whatever, Wentz. Didn’t know you were such a fucking baby.”

“I can’t,” Pete whispered to himself. He walked forward and said more loudly, “stop it! Stop it, you’re gonna kill him!” He shoved Brendon, Joe and Andy away and kneeled down to look at Mikey. “Are you okay? Mikey?”

“‘m fine,” Mikey assured, “what the hell are you doing?”

Pete shook his head before helping Mikey back up. He leaned his body against the building and turned to face the Socs. “I’m fucking done with you assholes.”

Brendon stared at him blankly. “What?”

“I quit being a Soc, you guys are terrible and you beat up Greasers for kicks,” Pete spat.

“That’s how it works, Pete.”

“Well, I quit,” Pete lifted Mikey’s arm around his shoulders so he could lean against him. He proceeded to drag him home.

Gerard was there when Pete opened the door. “What the fuck?”

“They,” Pete breathed, setting Mikey on the couch, “beat him up. And I quit, I quit being a Soc. They suck and they’re terrible, mean people.”

Gerard almost laughed. “Damn right. Thanks for bringing him back. Pete, was it?”

“Uh-huh,” Pete nodded, “sorry.”

“It’s fine, dude,” Gerard grabbed a washcloth from the kitchen and ran it under cold water, “it’s not the first time he’s been in a fight.” He dabbed the blood from around Mikey’s face.

“I’m not dead, you know,” Mikey finally croaked out.

“I’m glad,” Pete said, stroking the hair away from his face.

“I am, too,” Mikey tried to smile back at him.

Gerard frowned. “Are you guys--”

“Yes,” Mikey said quickly. He looked Pete in the eye, “if you want, you know, to, um, go out with me?”

Pete turned pink and smiled. “Yeah, I’ll go out with you.”

\--

Pete stayed the rest of the weekend helping Mikey heal with Gerard. Gerard was actually really cool and he liked cool music and comics. Whenever Mikey would mention something about Frank, he would turn bright red and try and change the subject. Pete almost laughed.

Currently, it was a Sunday and Pete was holding Mikey’s hand on the couch while they watched shitty reruns of some show on TLC. He kissed the side of Mikey’s face at random and Mikey giggled every time he did so.

“You’re a Greaser, you’re supposed to be all badass and _not_ giggle when I kiss you,” Pete mumbled against Mikey’s skin.”

“I can’t help it,” Mikey rested his head on Pete’s shoulder, “I’m fucking ticklish.”

Pete laughed. “I like you, Mikeyway.”

Mikey hummed. “I like you too, Pete.”

 


End file.
